Dead Bride
by Nicholas Raine
Summary: Wanderlust plagues a woman to venture out of the ashes of her hometown and find someone new. Perhaps, even a sniper. One that shares her views but in reality, they differ greatly.
1. Chapter 1

|_Dead Bride: Chapter one_|__

She always walked with her knife out, or with a weapon drawn. Like she was expecting death or something, like she was expecting Judgement Day to come early for her; almost like he did. Wisps and curls of short brown tresses was blown back gently by a merciful breeze. But she wasn't anything gentle at all, Boone thought.  
>Catherine was more of a cactus if anything, always willing to stick someone whether it be an elderly or a young woman, all depending on what they were fighting for. The way she walked wasn't flat, more of a guarding position and sleek. Sleek and smooth was the way she traveled out here in the Mojave, unlike the calloused ground before them, depraved of life and water long ago. And it really added to her character- Cold like the many dead bodies and souls she ended but caring. Always had the look of understanding, unless you were Legion. No free hugs for them.<br>Despite the beating sun, despite how relentless it was her skin was pale as a grove of ashes. How she wasn't sunburnt was beyong him.

Catherine and Boone both braved the Mojave roads and how she got him to do it was beyond him. A courier once helped him find the 'merchant' of his wife, but he didn't tag along. Well, that courier ended up dead at the Tops and here was this woman who managed to get him out of Novac, where he used to bitterly will the hours away, planning ways to go out with a bang. No one looked him in the eye, besides Catherine. Her eyes were a pale dusty green, like his own. He had barely noticed the multiple scars on her face when they talked, but he made a bet to himself that each one told a colourful story.  
>Just another fine trait the Mojave had to offer- travelers who were in desolate areas of what was left of the world trying to seek comfort by venting on others. Lovely. But in all reality, Boone didn't mind. He never knew what to say. Pulling out his rifle and monitoring the road ahead through his scope in even, widespread sweeps, they continued on their journey. It was endless, almost. Just like his life seemed to be. Catherine took him everywhere though so it had a little bit of variety- and luxuries- such as free equipment. She never charged for anything, never asked for anything in return. And if she did, Boone would be above his head in debts. Debts he still wanted to pay for. But currently, they were just doing things for the NCR; and the current 'mission' they were sent out on was to get to Helios One and activate the solar power plant back up to full speed. And much to his surprise, it was found right outside of Novac. He wish he'd known that sooner, so they wouldn't have had to try and spend hours finding it, guessing. This time around, the NCR didn't give directions.<br>"I think I see it", she sighed out in a icy voice.

"You think? Because I see tons of solar panels", he retorted.

They didn't hate eachother. They just weren't accustomed to one another yet- coupled by the fact they never spoke that much. But she knew her way with words, that was for sure, otherwise he'd still be holed up in Novac, bitterly and dismally willing the hours away, dreaming about his dead bride. 


	2. Chapter 2

|_Chapter Two: Anybody and No-one_|

Indeed, there were many solar panels. Some of which broken and shattered and torn up by the years and some of which still stood proudly, but cold, from the lack of the sun beating on them. And it was beyond Boone on how 'solar energy' worked- he'd barely heard of such a thing but Catherine seemed determined. Almost in the way so that she knew everything there was to know about it, but in reality there was nothing she knew about Helios One at all. The two approached the facility, NCR tirelessley guarding it with their lives as if the Brotherhood of Steel were to attack again. What a waste of resources, if anything. And then again, who wanted to be put out on the front lines in combat in a war they could barely win if the Gods permitted? What gods, though?  
>This endless train of thought perplexed the man as he adjusted his shades and beret, wiping sweat from his brow as Catherine led him through the dank complexes of the Power Plant, eventually finding that idiot in the glasses one of the soldiers outside had pointed her to. And Catherine, well, didn't seem to enjoy the present of someone so ludicrous. If only she had met some of the chem fiends he had personally blown the life out of with his hunting rifle. This man was a bit too egocentric for Catherine and she ended up talking to another man who wasn't cracked but was a Follower. Boone didn't mind them, but didn't care for their ways. Ignacio Rivas was his name- Damn, it sounded something like a Legion name. And here was Catherine, talking solidly to a man who claimed to be of peace and unity but who worked for the NCR like a toiling slave.<br>Or probably was slaving to get rid of that 'Fantastic' character in the other room.  
>Either way, Boone didn't blame him entirely. But still- tabs would be kept on 'Ignacio'. Seemed a little fishy, and just because he was a Legion hating son of a bitch didn't mean he couldn't be suspicious too. Catherine in her usual stark ways moved out of the shade of the plant. Only if the coolness would last longer as they braved the heat, scrutinizing the barren land as they looked for each terminal to activate. Barren was almost and understatement- and hellhole didn't define it. The two swept the perimiter before finding the metal shack, not a few yards off from their original position. And, of course, it was trapped. Luckily, the sniper had noticed beforehand, and motioned for her to stop at he aimed and fired one swift round into the tripwire, a ding of metal and small plumes of dirt casacading from the entry point into the ground, and a casing lay near the man's feet. Catherine moved in, seeing the mines. Knowing she couldn't deactivate them all at once she moved back out, and let Boone do the work for her. Shooting was his talent and current occupation, anyways.<br>And for her, it was technology. Energy weapons, and talking to people. However, the lattermost was her leased used skill and the two former ones were predominant. Highly sufficient in her line of work, it was easy to re-link the terminal back to the solar collection tower- wondering what to do about the upcoming battle with the automated defense systems- and thinking about the priority at hand.

Boone's tinted glasses reflected into the Mojave sun as he looked into the sky, the nude, cloudless light bue azure making him think. It made him think about a lot of things, while he awaited Catherine's conformation on finding the second terminal. Boone never admitted to himself that he was filled with angst- especially after 'She' died- and the sky reminded him every day of her eyes that weren't dull or lackluster. He couldn't bring himself to say her name as he felt he didn't deserve it, and what they were now were just anybody and no-one. Ethereal and reality.  
>At times, he'd think of her and the things she would do, every little thing that drove him crazy about her. But in the morning's creeping light through his dusty blinds that spilled onto the old, red carpet and into his bed he only wished that light belonged to Carla as it did in the past.<br>And now, the morning's light was blocked by Catherine's dull shadow, which stretched across the walls like an eternal and abyssal eclipse. Catherine, who was usually cleaning and repairing weapons. But now, in the present, they were hard at work. Work for the government they had both come to respect truthfully. Therefore, at times, they did what others didn't. No matter the assignment it got finished by the duo aquaintances, but there were times that they both rebelled like an angry teenager towards mother or father.  
>He could almost hear his name being called over and over, a chorus of "Boone! Wake up!" and light-fingered snaps to match. The voice didn't belong to Carla, much to his dismay. And disappointment.<p>

Gently putting her hand out of his face, he followed Catherine to the tin-can shack where she had disposed of the NCR guard dogs the resided there previously. It was humane enough for him, but frankly, he didn't give a damn, as long as the job was finished. Catherine, however, had pity but quickly got to her work on resetting the connection between the collection tower and terminal once again, and at times due to her lonesome self, she thought it was like setting up a couple. All fine and dandy, right up until the other refuses their connection like fickle kids refusing 'healthy' foods. She didn't blame the kids. Boone peered over her shoulder from a small distance and left to lead the way towards the collection tower, a rusted old, barely functioning pre-war tower used for energy. Back then, they had lots of energy, plentiful supplies. But now, you could barely use a hotplate.  
>She followed closely and flanked to his right side as they entered, weary of not to rush ahead. There was a pre-war defense system and it wasn't looking for friends at the moment.<br>She took quick cover by a corner and squeezed a few shots off her laser rifle, hot and empty microfusion cells clattering against the rusted metallic flooring. One turret down, two to go and a Sentry bot included- just her luck. Boone didn't seem to have problems, though. He was even running into fire like an idiot as he assaulted to Sentry bot with his rifle repeatedly. Effective but not the brightest tool in the shed, she dryly chuckled. Peering through a scope she had added and making sure the area was clear (Boone also made sure of that by blatantly walking around), Catherine got up from her hiding spot and moved to the stairwell which shared the same amount of aging as everything around them did. They watched eachother's backs, cautious of the other but worried about theirselves. Just like Anybody and No-one. 


	3. Chapter 3

|_Chapter Three: I'd give anything for you_|

Catherine mumbled under her breath as she watched Boone charge into battle relentlessly, Protectron after Sentry Bot and so forth. He didn't have a purpose or one he could find, anyways. It wasn't artistic the way he dispatched one after another, it was noisy. Trigger pull after trigger pull, she found herself behind him in a wave of oil spatters on the ground, scrap electronics, et cetera. The robots laid there, consciousless, and pathetic.  
>She kicked the tin can out of the way, and stared at it for a moment, looked at the cracked glass on it's 'head', her eyes trailing down it's 'spine' and to it's metallic 'legs'. Eyeing it, she noticed everything about it. Boone looked at her, glaring slightly, wondering why she took her time to examine things closely. It just didn't make sense to him, to see her bend down and pick up what was left of the robot or whatever it was, whether it be a chip or energy cells, and stuff it into her pack.<br>And to Catherine, each piece you found was something to behold, whether it be an autopsy or exhuming graves. Both of which, really, was something she did on a regular basis, the autopsy after the exhumation. It made Boone cringe to see her drag a scalpel across what was left of a body, wondering if she was fucked up enough to do that if he finally died and went to hell.  
>But no, he never died. She always stimpacked him back to life, the merciless bitch.<p>

The two moved through the halls of what was standing of the solar collection towers, fighting some protectrons here and there. They didn't make a difference, they didn't get in their way. Just another thing to sharpen their skills, while not being godly hard to kill. But Catherine barely pulled the trigger on her gun, due to the fact that Boone was really trying to piss her off at this point by doing the dirty work for her. Or maybe, he just needed to work off some anger. Earlier in the day, they were getting shot at by automated turrets and deactivating more mines, and now they were in the belly of the beast, trying to aid the NCR in their cause. But after all, did they really deserve it?  
>Boone shifted positions, moving behind her, and pulled out his machete. Catherine heard the slight scrape of sharp metal against leather, and looked back at him, as if he were stupid.<br>"Plan on being a butcher?", she remarked, rolling her eyes a little.  
>"Huh, yeah. You're first on the chopping block", Boone retorted, growling a little. She was very disrespectful to him, it seemed, and so he threatened her every so often.<p>

However, it was shrugged off. He sometimes wondered if he actually meant it.  
>Catherine heard him put away the machete and pull out his hunting rifle again. She smirked a little, trying to laugh to herself about the fact he pulled a machete out to fight a robot. What the hell was he thinking? But then she thought harder and suppressed her cruel laugh and smile, she wasn't omniscient. In fact, she was another human being, just as he. Another human being traversing through the remnants of pre-war technology, and emerging at a stairwell which led to a large generator. Her boots clicked against the metal grating as they made their way down, his footfalls heavier than hers. She stepped aside of Boone and let him look through the area, and gave an all clear signal. Moving quickly now to assess the situation, she saw the actual generator was broken, and knew how to fix it. But damn her luck. She would need extra metal.<p>

Boone watched her try to fix the generator, watching her hands dig deep into the oily, rusty mess. Which probably was a dumb idea. But he watched because he was curious of how she fixed it. He'd have to coerce her into fixing his rifle, then again he liked it the way he had it. A loud smack of a boot was heard and a small screech of metal moving across concrete, then the sputter of life from a generator that was going to be used to give power to major areas tha the NCR considered 'valuable'. Going over to the oil-stained woman she folded her arms and stared at him cooly, as if non-chalantly almost. Moving past him, she wiped her hands off on his shoulders, leaving black oil marks. He turned towards her and glared heavily from behing his shades. Catherine felt the weight of his glare and braced herself for a smack or something, but it was unlikely to happen. Then, she remembered. Moving up towards the double doors that led outside to a spiraling catwalk, she moved in the Mojave sun as fast as she could, checking the time every so often as she climbed to the control terminal for all the solar panels. Boone followed, cursing about the oil stains.  
>Assessing the controls quickly she moved a few levers, hit a button, and then the low whine of mechanical parts moving was heard below before a blinding light like the dury of God himslef hit the two, with Catherine stumbling over and falling on the catwalk and Boone covering his eyes with his forearm, even with his shades on. She got up quickly, and moved back inside with the sniper in tow, ready to configure the power grid. Catherine wiped her eyes, and got to work, while Boone leaned against the wall, staring at her. Peering at the screen, he noticed her hesitation, and was curious again. She heard his footsteps close in behind her and she slumped over at the waist, head hanging a little due to her thought process kicking in again. She didn't owe her life to the NCR, nor was she a soldier. They barely knew her, and Boone just went along with her 'escapades' every day. But now? Her morality said to give everyone power but her slightly avarice mind said to give the NCR power, you might get paid. Boone just stared at her, the reflection of the terminal screen in her eyes as her finger drifted towards the Regional Output option. He wanted to stop her, but he didn't. And the reason being was that the power would go everywhere, support the people, even the NCR and their demands.<br>But what if the enemy got it as well? He didn't know if the Brotherhood of Steel was still around. But would it matter if they only left a trace memoir behind? His morality was getting on his nerves, and when something like that happened, he let it go. Let her do what she thought was right, to give something back. A contribution, even if it meant a simple choice could affect the 'future'.  
>That was the whole point of living, wasn't it?<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

|_Chapter Four: She isn't sympathy_|

_Her arms lay across my chest  
>His hands in mine as we closed our eyes<br>Dreaming of the day to come,  
>When we'd be together for eternity.<em>

It'd been a day and a night since they'd last spoke. Since a threat was given, or a retort taken. It was almost surreal the way they ignored eachother as Catherine and Boone sat in the dark, in a camp they'd set up. The fire crackled and the stars seemed to eternally weep light onto the sands in the pitch night. Embers smoked, and the sniper watched the young woman sleep, whom seemed finally at peace. Her breaths were slow, he noted, signaling she was deep in some sort of dream.  
>His rifle laid by his side, the scope slightly scratched and the wood of the stock cracked. Same old, same old. His sense of hearing focused elsewhere, he kept his eyes on Catherine, thinking. She was mysterious, having never spoken a word of her origins and here, she knew everything about him, because he reluctantly told her. She hadn't spoken a word about her own when he coughed up everything he knew about his being. It seemed selfish.<br>_He almost didn't care. Almost._

But yet she was so familiar. Her eyes were like Carla's but not quite and behind them he noticed there was something there than just another wasteland warrior, per say. She had to have something more than kills to her name, whether it be a tragedy or not. He was just curious on who she was. Couldn't blame himself.  
>Boone found himself crouched and trying to shake awake the lady. Her eyes opened grogilly and he saw a little behind them. A story to tell.<br>"You need something?", she asked, nearly pissed off. He glared at her in his usual way before she sat up, and sighed, ruffling her hair back a little.  
>"You never talk about yourself. Tell me something", Boone nearly demanded. Her brow furrowed and she stared. Nothing to hide, Catherine thought. But it hurt all the same.<br>All there was the moon, stars, and open air. She wasn't tired much anyways, and here was someone to listen.

"...I.. well, I was born in a little town. Grew up under God, and then it got burned to the ground one day. Are you trying to say you don't know my name or do you want more?", she said, curious. She never did say her name, in fact.  
>"That and I wanna know more", he slightly demanded. Boone already knew a sob story was in tow, but he was just curious. He had hardships, everyone did. They were all only human.<br>"New Canaan. I came from there, and you know the rest", she said, sighing deeper. "Or you should. But I'm not sad- my family was one of the few, fortunately. And that's the day I lost my faith. I don't have much to live for".

Now, there was something you didn't hear every day. Boone shook his head and just looked at her.  
>"You're not fucking with me, are you?"<p>

"No sir. Born and raised there, wasn't much".

"Should I be sympathetic?", he asked, trying to be to the best of capabilities.

Catherine shook her head and smiled. It wasn't much but it was there, sitting on her thin lips. She didn't look in the least bit depressed or asking for a kiss or hug better. She looked indifferent about it- there was a little hurt, but time heals, he figured. The stars wept light and the moon bled silver. The sun, however, gave all it could in the early inkling of morning, as they sat, trying to smooth wrinkles out of unknown information. She didn't sugarcoat her past and he didn't ask bad questions. He listened and she gave.

They were, after all, only human.

_{Side note:  
>Sorry guys, the chapters are a bit short. I've come down with Strep throat and find myself blank of ideas or too lathargic to type. I'll try and write up more ideas once I get better, but until then, expect things a little short.<em>

_3}_


	5. Chapter 5

|_Chapter Five: Undying Trust_|

Only human.  
>"We're just that. We can't change it", she tried to her best efforts to explain. It was alarmingly early, still. Streaks from the leftover night were fading away, their dying lucidity mixing with the colours of dry daytime. Catherine and Boone had been arguing, ad nauseaum. It was a rinse wash repeat kind of thing for them.<br>And for Boone, it was like listening to Manny and Carla. Why was he thinking about her a lot, lately? Maybe the drinks had gotten to him or he was loathing. He closed his eyes, trying to reason out her voice that replaced Catherine's. It was endless, like the sky seemed to be as it lightened up. He let himself go into his thoughts, watching the sunlight play across her face. Boone held her hands, and Carla smiled at him, both of them getting lost in pools of hazel and green.  
>"Why don't we go back to Vegas", she argued. Boone shook his head. Manny was here, the town was nice... He couldn't leave it all behind; he couldn't give up his friend and spotter. Carla wrinkled her nose and let go of his hands, stepping back. The backlight seemed to become brighter. Boone reached out to her, her image cracking like the many glass bottles he smashed against the wall at night. It even sounded like that, the din of the distance becoming louder. He felt cold, and Goosebumps raced up his spine, itching slightly. They started burning. Carla, however, looked pristine. He felt the rush of air past him, like the breath exiting his lung in reality. She opened her mouth, and screamed, the world turning blank white.<br>The scream didn't belong to Carla, whom he loved dearly so. It belonged to Catherine, who was pulling the trigger on a small laser pistol, the empty energy casings making no noise as they hit the sand, like water sinking in. Only the water was blood, and not all was the attacker's.  
>Boone shot up, with his rifle and saw Catherine drawing breaths in from the charred-flesh air, a few scrapes. There was a major laceration across her face, however. Then, he noticed.<br>A deathclaw lay by her feet- young though- but still very well alive. She incapacitated it but didn't kill it. Blood dripped from its claws as breathed raggedly, and Catherine joined it on its interval. Boone jumped up on what seemed a second time and then kicked dirt behind him as he charged over to her.  
>"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Kill it!" he growled. Catherine glared up at him, her face bleeding. Blood got into her mouth and she spat it out as she looked up at him.<br>"I'm out of ammo, dick!" she exclaimed.  
>Boone looked down at her and shook his head, picking her up in his arms. She wiped more blood from her face and writhed out of his arms, finishing off the slumbering beast. <p>


End file.
